War
by captainkitten
Summary: I just have a mighty need for a Dark Captain Swan magical lover's quarrel.
1. Chapter 1

The sound of a distant explosion echoes in the diner and Charming's coffee cup rattles in its saucer as Granny tops it off.

Not that she spills a drop. As if.

"How long are we going to just sit here and let this happen?" he asks Snow for the seventh time.

"David, if you want to walk out into _that_ storm, be my guest," Snow snaps as she bounces a fussy Neal and passes a sandwich to Roland. The diner is packed, the residents of Storybrooke taking refuge from the showdown currently playing out on their streets. Regina's protection spell holds strong, if only because the two Dark Ones are too focused on each other to bother with the rest of the town.

"I still can't believe this is happening, how Emma could be so _stupid_ ," Regina huffs. "It's like arming a petulant toddler with a nuclear missile."

Snow rolls her eyes. "Regina, we all know you would have done nothing less if you had been in her position, so just shut it. We need to focus on keeping everyone safe and figuring out how to get this darkness out of them _both_ before it destroys the town. Which," a swirl of smoke outside the window upends a car, sending it rolling into the haberdashery across the street, "might happen sooner rather than later."

"Was there any of that magical fix-it dust left in Arthur's things?" Robin asks Charming.

"God, I hope so," Charming manages to reply before another explosion sounds.

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Emma pants as she rolls to her feet, magic singing in her blood and buzzing along her skin. Crouching behind a rusty Volvo, she tries to catch her breath before calling out to him in a low, controlled voice. "I'm starting to think you're not even trying."

She doesn't _mean_ to taunt him, as it's not the smartest thing to do to a newly-christened Dark One, but she can't resist.

She's a Dark One too, after all.

She also knows he can't fully control his magic, which gives her an advantage. But she also knows the darkness is deeper in him that it is in her- just as he warned her it would be- which gives him an advantage. Then again, she's the savior. And so it goes on. But in the end, they love each other, so it's all pretty much a wash.

If only she could calm him down enough to see that reason.

Earlier, she found him facing off with Gold aboard the Jolly Roger, Excalibur a bright streak of silver as he swung it down upon his centuries-old enemy. The clash of metal sang through the air as Gold had countered the blow, and before Killian could strike again, she stepped in. The ropes of his own ship mutinied against him at her command, snaking around his arms and legs and binding him to the mast. In a swirl of smoke, she returned Gold to his shop, leaving her to face her enraged creation. Her True Love.

That's what this is all really about, anyway.

She scouts the alleyway next to Modern Fashions, disappearing and reappearing in it with a swirl of smoke. The leather of her jacket presses into the brick as she stands flush against the wall, listening for him. _Silence_. She's hesitant to reach out with her magic, knowing his will sense it. But maybe he's still too new to fully understand that? It's worth a shot, so she cautiously expands her magic along the street.

She knows it was a mistake a fraction of a second before he appears before her.

"Looking for me, darling?" he growls, pressing her back against the brick wall. His knee nudges between hers, and he settles close in that way that makes her blood fire. He cocks his head to the side, sweep of inky hair falling over his forehead as he trails a finger slowly up the exposed column of her neck. Her eyes flutter before she can stop them, a moan rising in her throat. A dimple winks to life on his cheek right before he shocks her with his magic, a little prick of electricity zapping along her skin.

 _The bastard._

She shoves him back with an angry blast of her own magic and bares her teeth, a flash of white against blood red lips. His grin is feral, blue eyes taunting as hers narrow in response. Thunder rumbles across the darkening sky, making her briefly consider leaving all together, regrouping at her house and giving herself time to calm down. But the dark pull of him is just too strong, so she stands her ground.

"So you want to play, then? Ok, let's play," she hisses. She is ice where he is fire, but then again, he's always had a flair for the dramatic, her pirate. She is much more calculating. She focuses on the multitude of buttons on his vest, popping them open one by one. Caught off guard by the odd attack, he looks down at the garment she is divesting him of, his momentary confusion giving her the opening she needs. Lowering her shoulder, she charges him, hearing his surprised grunt as she tackles him to the ground.

She lands on top of him, barely noticing the way his hand automatically reaches for her hip. She shimmies out from his grip, quickly scooting up his chest until his forearms are pinned with her shins. Crossing her arms, she looks down her nose gives him her archest look. "Ready to surrender yet, Captain? I really need you to listen to me."

"You fight dirty, Swan. I've always liked that about you," he grins, and for a moment, he almost looks like himself. Like her Killian. She feels herself softening for a split second before she's launched in the air, landing hard on her ass before springing back to her feet as he does the same. "But I fear you forget that I am much more versed in battle that you and I _never_ surrender," he extends his hand towards the ground, which begins to crumble beneath her boots. A deep chasm splits the alleyway, leaving her balancing precariously on a thin column of pavement. Her eyes dart around, searching for a way to stay him, a way to restrain him long enough to try and get through to him. She spies the fire escape above his head, and she smiles.

"And you forget, Killian, I am simply much _more_ ," she says calmly as she flicks her wrist and summons the metal. The fire escape groans as it answers her call, its once-stiff bars becoming fluid as they descend and wrap around his arms, tugging him to his knees and anchoring him to the asphalt. He struggles, grunting and pulling at his iron restraints. But her magic holds strong against his, and he finally stills, sullenly looking up at her with hooded eyes. She hops gracefully over the chasm and steps close, tipping his chin up with her finger until his gaze fully settles on her. He looks so annoyed, so moody and huffy that she finally does soften. Bending down and bringing her face close to his, she cups his cheek and nudges his nose with her own.

"I need to you hear me out, to listen," she whispers, anger gone. She presses her cheek to his, chasing the warmth of his skin. Even like this, even as the Dark One, he's always so warm. "But you need to calm down first, Killian. You're letting your anger get out of control."

"I see, so now it's _not even my choice_ as to how I can feel?" he retorts, struggling once again against his bonds.

She reels back as if slapped, his words delivering a fatal blow, and just like that the war is over for her.

"Just leave me be, Swan," his words are heavy with resignation and she loses it.

"No. I won't. You must listen," desperation fuels her as she steps close once more and grabs his face, shaking him slightly and willing him to see reason.

"Why? Why should I listen to anything you have to say? You did this to me!" his anger roars back to life. "How could you do this to me? You knew. You of all people knew it was the worst fate you could possibly sentence me to. I would have never dreamed you could be so cruel, but it seems I underestimated you, Swan," he sneers and her heart shatters.

"I am sorry. I am so sorry, Killian. But I just couldn't. I love you too much to lose you. I _cannot_ lose you," her own anger bubbling even as she can feel herself cracking under the weight of it all, the heaviness of her guilt weighing like a ton of bricks upon her broken heart. But she has to make him understand-she _needs_ him to understand-so she steels herself and pushes on, finally admitting the truth. "I couldn't survive it, don't you get it?" her voice finally breaks, a traitorous tear escaping past her icy façade and trailing down her cheek. "I'm not a survivor like you."

His dark brow furrows as he watches the tear fall, eyes blinking and she can see the darkness warring behind them. But then they clear, and for the first time in days, she sees _him_.

"Emma," he croaks, dropping his forehead to her stomach. He turns his face into her softness, eyes shutting as he breathes her in and finally calms. "I only survive because you give me something to live for, my love."

Her fingers card through the thick locks of his hair, cradling him close as pricks of pain tear at her heart. She knows she was wrong to do this to him, to do the one thing he would never do to her: take away his choice. But the thought of losing him was simply too much to bear, and so there really had been no choice for her either. She will spend the rest of eternity seeking his forgiveness, because they have that now. Together. And for that, she can't be sorry.

"Will you come home?" she asks softly as she releases his bonds, stepping back. Dropping all pride, she holds out a trembling hand to him. He looks at it for a long second, long enough to have fear curling once more in her gut. But he finally takes it, fingers lacing with hers, the cool metal of his rings a welcome sensation against her skin. He looks down at her, the familiar blue eyes of the man she loves beyond reason.

"As you wish, love. As you wish."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: An odd, not-really-but-kind-of-follow-up to the first chapter, because this headcanon won't let me go. Also I made the mistake of listening to "I Believe" by Christina Perri._

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She finds him on the small sun porch off the back of the sprawling house, the one that overlooks the gardens that she knows he loves. He once told her his mother was a gardener, that she would spend hours tending a tiny patch of earth next to the house he grew up in, bringing cheerful life to their small yard. She can picture him so clearly there– a small dark-haired boy, dreaming on the grass, head tucked against his mother's soft skirts as she hummed a quiet song and worked in the sunlight.

She knows he can sense her, their connection deeper than ever here in the darkness. But his head remains bowed, not lifting even as she pads towards him quietly. When she gets close enough to peer over his shoulder, she sees that it's his hand that has him transfixed. He's flexing it in and out of a fist, rotating it around and examining it from every angle. She notices the upended rattan table and shattered flower vase in the corner of the room, but she doesn't say anything, she just waits. She's done pushing him.

"It's an odd thing," he finally says at length, eyes still on his hand.

"What's that?" she asks as she bends behind him, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"This power. I used to marvel at yours, the beauty of it, and I always wondered what it would be like to have as my own."

"And what do you think now that you do?"

He doesn't answer her immediately, just continues to flex and turn his hand for a long moment. "It's all wrong."

"Wrong?"

"I'm wrong, I'm wrong with it. It's not beautiful, not like yours. It's terrifying and dangerous. It itches along my skin and whispers in the recesses of my mind, begging for release," the words flood from him in a rush. "And sometimes I can't stop it from getting out and–" his shoulders hunch as he gestures towards the mess in the corner. "I told you I wouldn't be able to handle this."

Her heart constricts painfully as it always does when she thinks of how she did this to him, guilt an ever-present weight on her shoulders. But this she can help with, so she straightens and moves around him, brushing his hook out of the way and crawling onto his lap. Reaching for his hand, she cups her own beneath it, turning it palm up.

"I know that's what you think. But that is what I thought, too. You have this idea in your head that I am somehow better than you, that– ah ah ah I'm not done," she chastises when he opens his mouth to argue. She gives him a steely look until she sees a ghost of a smile tick at the corners of his pretty mouth, tongue darting along his bottom lip before he sighs dramatically and tells her to continue. "That my power is this great thing of beauty while yours is not. But you know better than anyone that mine was anything but an easy acceptance. You saw how rough it was for me."

He mulls that around, his blue gaze falling on the hand she holds once more.

"Power is intimidating," she continues gently. "But it's nothing to be scared of, you taught me that. You never ran from mine, even when I wanted to. You helped me see that it was a part of me, and that I could handle it. You can, too. Let me help you, Killian. Let me give you what you gave me."

At this, she draws at her own power, feeling it gather and flow underneath her skin. She concentrates on the cup of his palm, calling to his power with her own as she focuses it into the small space. Light begins to bloom there, glowing and growing warm and sure. She glances at him, and smiles when she sees the look of wonder on his face, the slight flush to his cheeks as he feels their power blend. She pushes hers further, beckons his to join, and it does. The light suddenly shoots up towards the ceiling, and she moves her fingers behind his, making them wiggle ever so slightly, and fireworks burst above them.

His small gasp fills the air, and she continues to move their fingers and make the bursts of light dance above their heads. She watches him as she slowly removes her hand, smiling when he continues to make the light dance with just his own power.

"See? Beautiful," she leans her head on his shoulder, reaching up and resting her hand over his heart.

The light fades as he feels this and realizes she is no longer helping him, his hand falling to rest on her thigh. He is silent for a long minute, only the sound of the grandfather clock in the corner ticking through the room.

"Huh," he finally grunts.

"What's this, the silver-tongued Captain Hook is speechless?" she teases, knowing he needs levity after such a revelation. Just another way in which they're kindred spirits. She drums her fingers over his heart until he snags her hand with his own, tugging her until she is sitting up facing him. Slowly, he presses his lips to her palm, eyes locked on hers. Her heart stutters in her chest, and if it wasn't already lost to him, it would be lost all over again.

"Thank you, Emma," he whispers, pressing her hand against his heart once more.

"Anytime, Killian. Anytime," she whispers back, before closing the distance between them and capturing his smile with her lips.


End file.
